


New Strings

by LokiofJotunheim



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:45:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2168007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiofJotunheim/pseuds/LokiofJotunheim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock needs new strings for his violin, heading to a shop he gets more than he paid for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Strings

New strings. It was always strings that brought him to this shop. He steps through the too small door and heads straight for the strings section. Its been weeks since he had been able to play his violin; Sherlock was going mad without it. Perhaps he was just going mad. There was a certain brand that he would use, only that brand. This quaint little shop had been out of it in the last month and they were the only ones to ever carry them. He stops at the counter when he didn't find them, quietly asking the girl, rather pretty girl, if they'd had the shipment yet. 

"Uh, I'm not sure. Just give me a moment to check." She slips down from her stool and rushes to the back. As he stands and waits his mind goes over her features. Rather soft looking brown hair, and... What color were her eyes again… Her voice had been distracting. "Here you are." 

She returns, setting a thick package before him. "Ah, Brown," he mutters aloud as she returns. 

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that." She smiles at him, a nice smile. "Did you say brown?" 

"Ah, yes. Yes I did. I couldn't remember a detail of your face. Your eyes to be exact. I am in the business of noticing details and... I'm rambling again. John warned me about that. " He cuts off to pull his money free, something he'd taken to carrying since John came back around.

"Here we are." He hands her the bill and she packages the strings. Handing them off, though not before she catches his hand. 

"You're Sherlock Holmes aren't you?" She smiles warmly. "I've always wanted to meet you. " 

"Have you?" His brow furrows, "why?" 

"Because you’re a genious, and kind of a celebrity. I..." She hesitates. "I was wondering, might you like to have dinner tonight? Come round mine and I'll cook for you. I just have to get to know you."

"Well, when offered like that I suppose. Should I invite John too?" Usually they were wanted as a pair. 

"Oh, no Mr. Holmes, just you and I tonight please. My name’s Moana by the way." She hands him a slip of paper with her address. "Be round at 7." 

He takes the paper and his strings, a curt nod of agreeance. He makes the short trip home to 221B Baker Street, and deals with Mrs. Hudson's inquiries about the grin on his lips. Heading into his flat he shuts her out, settling into his experiments until about 6. He showers and dresses, nicely of course. Purple button down and dark slacks, his 'fancy' dress shoes as John called them. Slipping on a fitted jacket he fluffs his curls, a decent effort to look nice. There was something about this girl, this felt more like a date than anything. Yet she hasn't called it that… Shrugging, he steps outside and hails a cab. Handing over the address, he settles back, telling the cabbie to stop as they approach a vendor selling flowers. It was the least he could do as a thank you for the meal. Picking a rather nice lily bouquet, he gets back in and is taken the rest of the drive. She lives across town, timing it perfectly he arrives at 6:58. Paying the cabbie, he steps out and buzzes her at exactly 7. 

"Hello?" She answers.

"Its me, Sherlock. You did still want me over for dinner, yes?" He asks, feeling a bit nervous. 'Why was he nervous?' He thought, 'well perhaps because she is a beautiful girl and she's invited by our round for a meal.' Suddenly it was violently clear that this was in fact a date.

"Oh yes! Hang on I'll be right down to let you in!" He waits calmly, whilst trying to not be awkward about the flowers. When she pulls open the door, he presents them to her. "My, these are lovely. Thank you." 

She guides him upstairs, settling the flowers as she tells him to make himself at home. Dinner being done shortly after his arrival, they settle at the table and force a bit of small talk. Soon she's blushing as she admits to reading John’s blog and very hesitantly asking what kind of reading he got off of her. 

“Well, John warned me not to do that. Said I can be a bit rude.” He answers timidly. He found himself liking the girl quite a bit. “I wouldn’t want to offend you. Just know I rather like you. “

“Do you?” She chirps. “I am glad Mr. Holmes. I am very glad.” 

“Your cooking was lovely as well. I haven’t had a home cooked meal like that since I last saw my mother on holiday,” he comments as he wipes his lips. “Very delicious.”

“Thank you again, though I didn’t have time to prepare dessert,” she grins sheepishly as she stands. Circling the table, she sits in his lap. The position giving him a perfect view of ample cleavage. Poor man couldn't help but let his eyes stray. "I have something better instead."

"Oh. Do you now? Well, we best go see to dessert then." He tries to keep his eyes focused on anything but her chest. His hands gone white knuckled on his armrests. "What might desert be?" 

She leans in, whispering against the shell of his ear. "Me, Mr. Holmes." 

He moans, entirely unintentional. “You?” He asks breathlessly. “Does that mean -”

“Yes, I want you to eat me, Sherlock, then have me properly.” She knows her words are lacking grace and class, but she can’t be arsed. She wants him. “Please,” she tacks on as an after thought. 

His mind reeled. “Ha-Have you?” ‘Live a little, Sherlock!’ John’s words haunt the detective.

Now or never. “Okay.”

A grin splits her lips, not giving him a chance to rethink as she presses her lips to his firmly. A long, sensual kiss. Filled with the promises of what they would do. She moans as his hands reach under her dress to pull her knickers away, briefly touching against her slicked folds. She writhes atop his lap, breaking the kiss only long enough to tell him where her bedroom was. Gasping as he lifts her, carrying her small body to her bed. 

He lays her back, his large hands lifting the fabric of her dress just enough to cover his head. She smells divine, like musk and woman. The headiness of her arousal all he needs to carry on. Lapping at her folds, his tongue dragging up the center before flicking her clit. Once. Twice. Three times and he’s returned to her center, pressing his tongue into her to taste her from the source. He moans against her as her fingers thread into thick curls, tugging to try and pull him back to her clit. She cries out, writhing and begging for more, which he always gives. The scrape of his teeth over sensitive flesh spikes her towards her end, she’s never lasted long with this anyways. 

Her hips buck against his face as she comes, a soft mewl - his name- off her lips. He drinks her down, eyes closed tightly as he tastes her fully. It’d been sometime; he missed this terribly, he thought as he pulled back. Licking his lips, Sherlock watched as her body twitched minutely. A shift in his position made him groan in discomfort, he was painfully hard in these pants. 

Catching on, she pulls herself together enough to undo his pants and have him lie on his back.. Pulling his length free, she rolls on a condom and gets into position. She’d blow him later if he wanted, right now, she wanted to feel him. Stretching, filling, pleasing her to her very core as she was certain he would. Straddling him, she lines him up and sinks slowly down; moaning as she was filled. Her hands twisted in the fabric of his button down, his hands gripping her hips to encourage a roll. To encourage her to begin her ride. 

“Yes.. Oh.” He moans as she settles into a quick pace, bouncing on his length. His lips part with soft pants as she drags him closer to release, her walls gripping him just right to make this quick. He admires her as she does this; the flush of her cheeks, the bounce of her breasts, the way her hair falls. Gorgeous. 

His fingers glide over her curves, kneading her breasts as a familiar burn grows stronger in his abdomen. His body tightening, preparing to spring to release. His hips buck and he's coming just as she calls out his name, a tense few seconds pass and he's panting beneath her. She whimpers softly, fingers clutching to his shirt as her body is wracked by waves of pleasure. Moana's hips roll, milking him of his release as well as her own. 

His fingers kept their bruising grip on her as he caught his breath. Panting raggedly, he tries to speak. "Is this... Why... You invited.. Me... To dinner?" 

"No,” she collapses against his chest. "But, I'm not complaining."

"Neither am I." He groans as she rolls off of him, turning to his side to look at her. "So, does this mean you like me?" 

She stares at him a bit dumbly. "Yes. Yes sherlock. I like you. Enough, I'd say, that we can do this again." 

"Like another date?" It's his turn to seem dim. 

"Yes." She laughs quietly. "A date. " 

He grins like an idiot, happy to have met her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! Please leave a kudos and a comment!


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